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“Yes, for the hundredth time—yes!”
“Diviners’ blood.”
The room went sideways. Jericho thought back to Will’s letters to Cornelius. Samples. All those samples. “You said you don’t believe in Diviners,” Jericho said. It was all he could think of in the moment. His mind simply wouldn’t work.
“Not their mumbo jumbo, no. But I can’t deny that the energy they produce is of enormous value. They are extraordinary in their way. Connected to that other world, you see. The trouble is…” Marlowe looked pained. “Frankly, some of these Diviners are of less noble stock.”
“How do you mean?”
“Coloreds. Jews. Catholics. Degenerates. They’re not real Americans.”
Jericho couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The minute he let his guard down with Marlowe and started to feel sympathy for him, the real Jake Marlowe came bubbling up like tainted water from a rusted fountain.
“But I’ve figured out a way around that, see. I take their blood, strip out what I need, and irradiate the formula to purify it.”
“You’re putting irradiated formula inside me?”
Marlowe chuckled. “Jericho, radiation is the safest thing in the world. Why, it’s good for you! Makes the blood strong! I drink Marlowe Industries radium water, myself.”
For weeks, Jericho had been operating at peak performance. He’d reveled in it. But now he could scarcely think. “What happens to the Diviners? How do you find them?”
“Now, see here, it’s all on the up and up,” Marlowe said, sounding like an exasperated parent. “These Diviners are volunteers who sign up through Fitter Families for Future Firesides at state fairs and whatnot.”
“And do you explain to them what you’re doing?”
“All research is protected. You know that. They volunteer because they want to do what’s right for their country!”
“Like that woman I saw? Anna Provenza?”
Marlowe’s expression darkened. “Anna is different.”
“She’s not a mental patient, is she?”
“She’s an anarchist. She had a choice—go to prison and see her family deported or come here as a volunteer and contribute something meaningful to the future of the country. I’d say that’s a pretty fair trade. More than fair, in fact.”
“Her family’s been deported anyway.”
Marlowe looked surprised but recovered. “I had nothing to do with that.”
Jericho felt as if he had been thrown into the deprivation tank, all his edges blurring again. “What happened to her?” he demanded.
“Anna? She’s perfectly safe.”
“Let me see her.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. By order of the United States government. She is still a criminal.”
Some terrible realization was fighting to take shape in Jericho’s enhanced mind. “You need them,” he said as the thought occurred. “You need them to keep that door open, don’t you? Because they’re connected to that world!”
Marlowe’s expression told the truth of it.
“Now, Jericho, don’t be hasty—”
“I’ll find her, then.” Jericho pushed away from the table.
Marlowe leaped to his feet, following. “Jericho! Where are you going? Jericho! Come back here!”
Jericho stormed toward the library, only to see the men in suits coming toward him with a syringe. “Now, Mr. Jones. You don’t wanna do this.”
